


Playlist

by Whatsastory



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Apocalypse, Bar Fight, Biker!link, College au one shot, Drunk Dialing, End of the World, Established Relationship, GMM - Freeform, M/M, More tags to be added, One Shot, Parents, Punk!rhett, beach, chapter 6 is all smut, domestic AU, one shots based on songs, self hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-03-02 11:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18809893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatsastory/pseuds/Whatsastory
Summary: A book of one shots based on different songs. The title of the chapter is the song that it’s based off of. Open to requests!





	1. Bad To The Bone

**Author's Note:**

> On the day I was born  
> The nurses all gathered 'round  
> And they gazed in wide wonder  
> At the joy they had found  
> The head nurse spoke up  
> Said "leave this one alone"  
> She could tell right away  
> That I was bad to the bone
> 
> Bad to the bone  
> Bad to the bone  
> B-B-B-B-Bad  
> B-B-B-B-Bad  
> B-B-B-B-Bad  
> Bad to the bone
> 
> I broke a thousand hearts  
> Before I met you  
> I'll break a thousand more, baby  
> Before I am through  
> I wanna be yours pretty baby  
> Yours and yours alone  
> I'm here to tell ya honey  
> That I'm bad to the bone  
> Bad to the bone  
> B-B-B-B-Bad  
> B-B-B-B-Bad  
> B-B-B-B-Bad  
> Bad to the bone
> 
> I make a rich woman beg  
> I'll make a good woman steal  
> I'll make an old woman blush  
> And make a young girl squeal  
> I wanna be yours pretty baby  
> Yours and yours alone  
> I'm here to tell ya honey  
> That I'm bad to the bone  
> B-B-B-B-Bad  
> B-B-B-B-Bad  
> B-B-B-B-Bad  
> Bad to the bone
> 
> And when I walk the streets  
> Kings and Queens step aside  
> Every woman I meet  
> They all stay satisfied  
> I wanna tell ya pretty baby  
> Well Ya see I make my own  
> I'm here to tell ya honey  
> That I'm bad to the bone  
> Bad to the bone  
> B-B-B-B-Bad  
> B-B-B-Bad  
> B-B-B-Bad  
> Bad to the bone

It wasn't his typical hangout. Not by a long shot. The worn wooden walls were caked in nicotine and spilled beer. The floors were a sticky concoction of who knows what. The neon signs that bolstered advertisements for "Budweiser," and other cheap piss beers blinked as they begged to die. 

It smelled like stale cigarette smoke as soon as he walked in, and he immediately tried to think of a way out. If it weren't for his co-workers dragging him out and insisting on trying this new bar out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, he'd have been out of there so fast his head would have spun. But as it were, Jordan and Josh wouldn't have let him leave even if he'd vocalized his concerns. 

"Drink?" Josh asked with a nudge, a bright smile flitting across his features. Clearly unaffected by his surroundings, he sauntered up to the bar with Jordan in tow, leaving Rhett to yelp and scurry up behind them. 

A can of Pabst and a bottle of Miller were in the hands of his company, and he leaned as casually as he could against the dinged wooden counter for his turn, as the gruff looking bartender waited with a raised brow for his drink order. 

"Um... do you maybe have any shandys on tap?" He asked sweetly with a polite smile on his lips. And then added, "or in a bottle..." when the only answer he received was a roll of eyes and a long suffering sigh. 

"You must be new here," a smooth voice sounded from beside him, the heat of someone sliding onto the stool next to him sinking into his skin. "Two Buds, Mike. Thanks man." 

"Oh, yeah. Never been before..." he stuttered out and turned his attention to the man next to him. 

Now, he looked like he belonged. Greasy hair slicked back against his skull. Leather jacked outfitted with patches with different sinister looking designs. Ripped up black jeans tucked into scuffed up leather boots. Trailing his eyes back up, they landed on the pair opposite his own, steely blue and crinkled with amusement. He was... bad? But he was good, too. Really fucking good to look at. 

The stranger scooted a bottle close to him when he was handed two, settling back in his seat and giving away a cocky smile. It was unsettling at best. 

"Uh, thanks, for this... you didn't have to. I'll pay you for it," Rhett offered, already digging in his back pocket for his wallet. 

"Ain't you cute," he told Rhett, chuckling through his words before taking a long swing of his drink. "Don't want your money, honey. What's a pretty thing like you doin' in a place like this?" 

Beyond it being an incredibly stereotypical thing to say, it was off putting. At 6'7'' with a thick beard, pretty was not an adjective Rhett had ever heard to describe himself. But it was... okay? 

He swallowed down the nervous spit that pooled at the back of his throat, and his eyes danced across the room as he tried to scope out Josh and Jordan. He finally found them, relief coming quickly, before Josh raised his bottle toward him with a wink, and it was clear that he wasn't getting any support. 

"Uh, hey, listen..."

"Link," the stranger supplied, his tongue raking over his lower lip as he eyed Rhett up and down. 

"Link," Rhett amended, "Right. Well, I should get goin' over to my friends. Thanks for the drink, though. 'Priciate it..." 

Rhett stood awkwardly for longer than necessary, long fingers wrapped around the neck of his perspiring bottle of shitty beer before he snapped back into himself and pointed toward his small group, motioning that he should get back. 

"You didn't tell me your name." He winked at Rhett when he said it, and Rhett felt he was damned when he saw it. 

"I-C-A-L?" Rhett caught himself asking before he could stop himself, and Link's teeth shined through his grin again. The letters marked on Link's knuckles caught his attention, and maybe he was impolite to ask, but fuck it. Link sat his bottle down and brought his right fist up to bump against the left. 

"Mythical?" 

"Mythical." 

"Mm," Rhett mulled over. "Rhett... is my name," he flashed a lopsided grin and extended his hand out. 

"Pretty and polite?" Link chuckled. "You always tuck your shirts in to your... are those slacks?" 

Rhett looked down at his clothes with a frown. Who was this guy and who was he to judge? He looked a few days removed from a shower and his own clothes were covered in desert sand and god knows what else. Still though, intriguing was a better word than grimy. 

"Ah, Yeah? Okay, well, it's been fun... Link. Thanks again for the drink. Have a good night, man," he said with a nod, needing to get out of there before he did something that he'd regret later. 

Rhett would have liked to think of himself as a decently coordinated man. Athletic through his teens, his name was still on the record books for basketball at his Highschool, even all those years later. But more than a handful of beers in, his pool shooting was less than stellar, and his friends were quick and loud in their jabs at his prowess. Not that they faired much better, but a little friendly competition never really hurt anyone, and he didn't mind the incessant teasing. He gave just as good as he got. 

At least, he didn't have a reason to mind until he was bent over, pool stick between his fingers and ass stuck out as he lined up his shot, when he felt a warm weight press against his back. 

"Think you might need some help, darlin'," he heard as the distinct smell of bourbon wafted hot and damp along his neckline. 

He stood up quickly, having forgotten his shot. What was it about this place and him being hit on? This man, different than the last, was certainly less to look at and gave him shivers up his spine. Shorter than him by a long shot but a little wider in stature, he seemed too confident in the way he eye fucked Rhett. Glancing up and down his body and humming appreciatively, something Rhett was most certainly not fond of. 

"I think I got it. Don't need any help, thanks," he mumbled, walking the fine line between polite and disgusted. He didn't want to lead anyone on, but he also certainly didn't want to leave any unwanted opportunities in the air. 

"Aw, come on now, sweet thing. Y'lookin' a little lost there. Lemme show you how it's done right." 

His sneer really drove it home, that little part of Rhett's brain that connected his fight and flight responses, both seeming to flare up at once. 

"Look, man. I said I don't need your help. Leave me the fuck alone," he sighed, exasperated. Were it not for the alcohol sloshing around in his belly, he'd have been a lot more worried, surely, a lot more careful with his safety. But he had his friends, who were standing idly by with hawk eyes, and he had his general size. If he really wanted to, he could wield it to his advantage. 

"Oh, you gotta mouth on ya, huh?" Mystery man groaned, seeming so pleased by having gotten Rhett to say the f-word. "I like that. Wonder what other filthy things I could get you to scr-"

"Pretty sure he told you to back off, man." 

Enter player two, Rhett thought, rolling his eyes when Link stepped up beside him, and then in front of him. This fucking bar, man. It was bad news from the get go and he should have known better than to be dragged here. 

"Shut up, Link. Fuckin' asshole. We were just talkin'. Havin' a good time, weren't we darlin'?"

So they knew each other. That much was evident. As was the terse body language they both displayed, like they were ready to rip each other limb from limb. And what was worse, both sets of eyes bounced from each other to Rhett, like he was a piece of property and they were about to piss on him to claim him as their own. 

"I'm the fuckin' asshole?" Link barked out a laugh, sarcastic and aggressive, his pointy white teeth glimmering in the neon light; nearly vampiric in nature, menacing and violent all at once. For a moment Rhett's stomach sank at the sight, a little afraid of his new acquaintance and the sure and steadfast way he held himself. "I think Rhett here would say otherwise, buddy." 

"Rhett, huh? S'at your name? Rolls off the tongue real nice," he said over Link. "I like that; rollin' my tongue. What about you, baby?"

A lot happened at once. A whole mess of sensory input from a shove to shouting to a drink splashed on him. He blinked- once, twice and again, before he realized what was happening. 

Link was straddling the other man, fist held high in the air, knuckles already tinted pink with the force of a landed hit, lip trickling red from a split in the corner. He pressed down, further darkening his knuckles underneath of the tattooed lettering. 

Rhett yelped, never having experienced a fight so close, especially not one brought on because of him. Surging forward, he tried grabbing the leather of Link's jacket, an innate sense of needing to help taking over his mind. But Link was strong and fast and determined. He shook him off easily, both taking another hit from the man on his back and delivering another blow before another loud shout was heard over the chaos. 

"Link and Alex! Get the fuck out. Two minutes before I call the cops!" 

With the words yelled from the bartender, Rhett was finally able to haul Link to his feet, guilt coursing through his veins because while he didn't technically ask for it, Link was in this mess because of him. Not that he seemed to mind, flashing Rhett a bloodied but bright smile when he stood up before he swiped his sleeve against his mouth and headed for the door. 

"You comin', Rhett?" He asked, walking backwards, that same sly grin etched on his features. 

"30 seconds, Link! Hand's on the phone! Get gone fast!" 

Rhett was a lot of things. Practical. Smart. Methodical. Buttoned up. Hard working. 

There were a lot of things he wasn't. Brash. Impulsive. Loose. Fun. Spontaneous. 

Happy. 

He wasn't happy, he realized all at once. He was bored. And boring. And... and he needed a fucking vacation from being him. And Link? Link might have just been the ticket to reprieve. Didn't hurt that the package came in such a sweet wrapping, either. 

With one final glance back at the two men he'd come with and a little wave, he turned back to Link. 

"Yeah, yeah I'm comin'."

He was a little less sure when Link lead him to his bike, and when he sat on the back and rode off into the night. But his nose was filled with leather and fresh, open air, and it was fun. It was still fun, more so even, when he got back to Link's apartment and spent the night. It was still fun the next morning, when burnt toast was scrapped in favor of cereal, and it was fun everyday after. 

Years down the line Rhett sits down on a well worn bar stool, one that's practically fitted to his body and asks for a shandy, only to have Mike, his friend and bartender roll his eyes. 

"I'm sorry about him, Mike. You can take the guy out of the khakis but can't take the khakis out of the guy," Link muses, twining his fingers with Rhett's and kissing the tattooed band on his left ring finger.


	2. Youth Gone Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I was born, they couldn't hold me down,  
> Another misfit kid, another burned-out town,  
> I never played by the rules and I never really cared,  
> My nasty reputation takes me everywhere.  
> Well I look and see it's not only me,  
> So many others, have stood where I stand,  
> We are the young (hey!) so raise your hands!  
> They call us problem child,  
> We spend our lives on trial,  
> We walk an endless mile,  
> (We are the youth gone wild!)  
> We stand and we won't fall,  
> We're one and one for all,  
> The writing's on the wall,  
> (We are the youth gone wild!)  
> My boss screamin' my ear 'bout who I'm s'posed to be,  
> Get a three-piece Wall Street smile,  
> and son you'll look just like me  
> I said "Hey man, there's somethin' you oughta know,  
> well I'll tell ya Park Avenue leads to (Skid Row)!  
> Well I look and see it's not only me,  
> We're standing tall, ain't never a doubt,  
> We are the young (hey!) so shout it out!  
> They call us problem child,  
> We spend our lives on trial,  
> We walk an endless mile,  
> (We are the youth gone wild!)  
> We stand and we won't fall,  
> We're one and one for all,  
> The writing's on the wall,  
> (We are the youth gone wild!)  
> Well lemme hear ya get wild!  
> They call us problem child,  
> We spend our lives on trial,  
> We walk an endless mile,  
> (We are the youth gone wild!)  
> We stand and we won't fall,  
> We're one and one for all,  
> The writing's on the wall,  
> (We are the youth gone wild!)  
> Woah (Woah) Woah  
> (We are the youth gone wild!)  
> Woah (Woah) Woah  
> (We are the youth gone wild!)  
> Yeah (Yeah) Yeah  
> (We are the youth gone wild!)  
> Woah (Woah) Woah  
> (We are the youth gone wild!)

He's somethin', alright. What, Link's not too sure. Green hair formed into a makeshift Mohawk. Cut denim jacket with the sleeves torn off and punk band patches decorate the back of it. If his jeans had anymore holes in them they'd probably just be threads. His ears are pierced; silver crosses hang from delicate chains. And what's more, he's wearing eye liner; dark and smudged and obvious even in the dimming evening light. He's nothing like Link's ever seen. Not from his hometown, anyway. But he's not in Buies Creek anymore, having left last year to go to college in Raleigh. 

But this guy, there's just somethin' about him. Maybe it's the way he's leaned against the rusted red brick of the house, with one booted foot kicked up behind him like he owns the place. Or maybe it's the way he blows out smoke rings after every drag of his cig like he's the coolest person to walk the face of the earth. Or maybe, and probably, it's the way he catches Link staring at him, the way his grin goes lopsided and cocky all at once.

He takes another drag, long like he's going to suck the whole thing down and throws his head back, never letting that smile dip and never letting his eyes leave Link's. The smoke blows out slowly, like the guy's trying to keep his lips pursed for longer than strictly necessary. The wisps of smoke do little to obscure his face, but ads to the mythical nature of him all the same. 

Normally Link wouldn't look for so long. He'd take a glance and keep on moving. He's polite, alright, his mama wouldn't have stood for this stop and stare bullshit he's got going on now.  But she ain't here and this guy, well damn, you'd stare too. 

The exhale's over far before Link's ready for it to be. Lips go back to resting position and the cigarette is stomped out on the ground before Link's catching a nod and a wink before Mohawk’s walking away and heading back into the party. 

Link shakes his head, the trace gone and a weird feeling in his gut taking over the emptiness it left behind. Oh well, it's a decent sized party and even if Link runs into him again, he's gotten his fill of ogling. He can act like a grown man and move on. 

But a couple'a hours later, couple'a (handfuls) of beers later, and he's not stopping himself from staring. Because mohawk's got a girl on each arm and he's kissin' this one then that one and it's just... brazen. And bizarre because neither of the girls seem to care when his attention is on the other, like they're both just happy to have his arms around them. He gives 'em both a decent amount of attention, and they're eatin' it up like they're starved. And maybe Link's a little jealous, I mean, look at them. 

And look at him, too, because he looks at Link with that same smile he had earlier. Like he's just eatin' up any attention he can procure, and he does so with a flourish. Shows Link his teeth when he switches from girl to girl. Keeps his eyes on him when his lips are on them. It's an odd sort of dance, and Link for the life of him can't figure out what the hell this is. Not until; 

"You want one of 'em?" Mohawk asks, voice dark and husky and sizzling and oh my god no, Link doesn't want one of them. First of all, he's not tryin' to have sloppy seconds, not from this guy. And secondly, over his mama's dead body. And thirdly, they're not property, and he's so shocked to hear them spoken about like that... until they both giggle like it's some big cosmic joke that everyone else is on except Link. 

"Want somethin' else?" He asks, almost sincerely, when Link doesn't answer him.

"Wh-" he clears his throat, the strain of talking seemingly too much when he's damn near under a microscope. "What else would I want?" 

Mohawk only smiles wider, hands going up in an innocent shrug. 

"Dunno, man. But if you want somethin', I think you should let yourself have it. Only young once and all'a that." 

Link's mouth opens and closes again like a big mouth bass, like he can't believe the balls on this guy. Who is he to tell Link what he should have and... and look at the choices he's making! Yeah, clearly he's about indulgence but that's just not Link. Link has morals.

"I've... I'll be headin' out. I'll, uh, bye..." 

There's no use in waiting to see if he'll respond, so Link turns and runs before he has the chance. 

He walks towards the front door of the house as the party goes on without him. He's wading through a sea of drunk and sweaty bodies, but the close contact doesn't make him feel half as dirty as that boy did. In fact, all of these other people, they're almost like a cleansing water, and he feels it even more so with every step away he takes.

College is strange. It's like, there's just these kids masquerading as adults. Like there's three of them stacked together in a long trench coat. But that's not true. They're kids in grown up bodies, and they do really stupid things. Like talking to strangers who follow you out of a house party in the dark of night. 

"I meant it, you know," he hears from behind him, and he's tempted to keep on walking. But something in the voice holds a challenge, and Link's never been one to force down his competitive side. 

"You're only young once," the voice follows up, and finally Link spins on his heel, half ready to fight and half ready to run if he needs to. 

"You following me?" He asks, and Mohawk gives a dark little laugh that doesn't really seem like he finds anything funny. 

"If I am?"

"Then you can go fuck yourself," Link spits, and he's a little surprised at the steady vulgarity that he doesn't normally have in his repertoire. 

"Oh, ho-ho," the guy laughs, and this time he smiles with his eyes, and maybe Link likes the look of it a little too much for them just having barely gotten acquainted. "You gotta foul mouth on you, anyone ever told you that?" 

"Well, I'm only gonna be young once, so..." 

Really, Link has no clue where this cockiness came from. This isn't how he normally acts. He’s usually shy, a little more introverted. But this guy... with his eye liner and the wicked way he looks Link up and down, it's like he's asking for it.

"Y'wanna get outta here? With me?" 

"Man, I don't even know you're name," Link scoffs, but there's something in his eyes, some little light that won't go out and Mohawk sees it with hawklike vision. 

"S'Rhett... y'ready?"

It's Rhett are you ready? What? If this isn't the weirdest conversation Link's ever had... 

"Ain'tcha even gonna ask my name?" Link asks, but still, someway somehow his footsteps fall in line with Rhett's, nearly like he's magnetic and Link's a helpless little spec of iron. 

"Na. Don't much care about it."

"Dang, that's real nice of you," Link says with a deep roll of his eyes. He walks quietly beside Rhett for just a little while longer until the grey of the sidewalk gives way to the black of the parking lot and Rhett leads the way to a car near the back. 

"This isn't what I imagined you havin'," Link says in question, and even in the dark of the evening Rhett can see a perfectly manicured brow perched high on his forehead. 

"Don't be knockin' my car, man. Get in." 

This is the penultimate minute; the time when Link decides if he's going to let loose and have a fun time with this punk kid, or if he's gonna hang back and go to his dorm. It's a smart move, going back home. He doesn't know this guy in the least, and his mama always told him not to get in cars with strangers. 

"You're not plannin' on killin' me, right?" Link asks, and Rhett laughs even though it wasn't a joke. 

Rhett leans against the car, foot perched just inside of the open door, arm stretched out wide against the hood. He smiles bright and taps twice against the metal before he shakes his head and gives a hearty laugh. 

"Nah, man. I ain't gonna kill ya. You're too pretty for that," he winks and sinks down inside of the car. 

Link stares into the darkness that's been vacated by Rhett's mischievous eyes, mouth open and breath harsh. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that he liked that a little too much. 

"You comin' or what? Ain't got all day!"

It's not long until, god knows how, Rhett's convinced Link to lean out of the window with a wooden baseball bat perched against his shoulder. He's certain, Rhett is, that when Link blasts a mailbox for the first time, he's gonna get a natural high. He's gonna feel some way that he never has before because Rhett can tell, he can just feel it, that Link needs to shake those muscles loose and just... fucking live a little. 

"Okay, okay!" Link screams when Rhett grows impatient. The wind whips through his hair, cool and crisp in a way that only autumn can deliver, and the briskness takes his breath away. But in the best way. 

"Here goes!" 

He readies the wood and takes aim as Rhett presses on the gas pedal. The bat swings in the air, twirling like Link's in the MLB, and soon enough there's a loud crash, a cacophony of twisted metal and a whooping sound that Link has never in his life made. 

"Holy shit, Rhett! Did you see that? I did it! I fuckin' wrecked it!"

There’s a laugh that sounds next to him, gleeful and halfway manic, but it’s a happy sound. One that radiates true joy, high pitched and breathy. And when Link looks over and gets a beaming smile back at him, his stomach flutters again, and again, he wonders how in the hell this is even happening. But it is, and it’s made even more obvious when a heavy and hot hand lands on his thigh and gives it a squeeze. 

“I knew you had it in ya, man,” Rhett says, and the sincerity in his voice is just something else. 

Link feels wild and free, hopped up on adrenaline and unwilling to ever come back down. He feels nothing but gratitude toward Rhett for showing him this side of himself; a side he never would have known existed without him. Without this random guy who lead him away from civilization and back home to himself. 

The drive back toward the dorm, far later than Link would have normally been out, is full of nervous energy and a hint of confusion. Every once in a while Rhett’ll look over with this face, this sweet and sexy look that fucking melts him. It’s a look that’s promising, but what, Link isn’t clear on. 

“Why are we here, Rhett?” 

“Hmm?” His eyes leave the road for just a moment, a sideways glance across to Link that only conveys one word; duh. “Why not?” 

Simple as that. Why not? But simple has never been good enough for Link, and by the time they’re pulling back into the parking lot and stepping out into the dingy lighting, Link’s buzzing with question. 

“So, what is this? We friends now?” 

“Sure, man. We’re friends. If you want to be.” 

If he wants to be... that’s not good enough. 

“If I want to be? Do I have other options?” 

They’re both leaned against the car facing each other with arms splayed across the roof. Rhett’s on the driver’s side and Link’s on the passenger, and it’s just enough distance to keep it from being too intimate. Which, really, is a good thing. 

“You want other options, stranger?” Rhett asks him, and just as he’s had all night, there’s that same little lopsided grin. Shit eating, if Link’s ever seen it. Like he knows he could get whatever he wants, and he won’t even have to lift a finger to get it. Link’ll do all of the hard work for him, ‘cause he’s just that good at his game. 

“You should do what feels right,” he says without waiting for Link’s answer as he stands up straight. His full night is something to be marveled at, something Link hadn’t really noticed earlier. But now that he has, it’s all he sees. Just Rhett. Taking up every inch of his vision- like a light at the end of a tunnel that’s dragging him forward. Like he’s powerless to stop his feet because just like earlier, Rhett is the magnet to his iron, the flame to his moth. 

He moves quickly, Link does, round the side of the car, past the hood, and onto the other side, the whole time his eyes never leave Rhett’s, and Rhett stays firmly planted in place. 

“You finally figure it out?” Rhett husks as Link steps up, but for fear of loosing his momentum, Link doesn’t answer. Instead he curls tight fists around the starchy denim of Rhett’s jacket, idly hoping that he won’t mind that the tendrils of fabric are coming apart between his fingers, but then he’s pulling Rhett down and it doesn’t quite seem so important anymore. 

He’s never kissed a boy before. And he’s not really sure why he is now, other than this particular boy set something free inside of him. Unleashed some other form of himself that laid dormant and repressed, but it fucking begged to be released for years and fucking years. And to have it out and in the world, wrapped up in this other boy, this stranger that he hardly knows, it’s perfect in every way. It’s almost like a rebirth. A new, better Link is going to come out on the other side of this, and he couldn’t thank Rhett enough if he tried, though he has a few thoughts on how to start. 

“You got roommates?” He asks, and instead of waiting for an answer, he dives back in and crushes his lips against Rhett’s. Rhett presses back just as hard, and flips their position so that Link is smushed against the side of the car, carefully cradled from the outside elements. 

“Yeah, you?” 

Link nods solemnly, Rhett’s mouth chasing the movements of Link’s head. 

“Shit... shit. Get in the car. In the back.” 

There’s little to no room on the tiny bench seat, but it’s enough for Link to straddle Rhett. Enough for Link to devour him from head to toe. Enough for the two of them to finish separately but not of their own hands, or rather, mouthes. 

The next morning sunshine streams in through all of the windows, seemingly to converge into Link’s eyes. The blinding red of his eyelids wake him up with a start, and his neck has maybe never been in as much pain as it is now, but it all sort of fades away when he looks around and finds a dusky green staring back at him. 

“I was thinking,” Rhett rumbles through the haze of sleep (and probably a little bit of pain of his own), “I’d really like to know your name now. And maybe your number, too.”


	3. Mr. Mom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lost my job, came home mad  
> Got a hug and kiss and that's too bad  
> She said I can go to work until you find another job  
> I thought I like the sound of that  
> Watch TV and take long naps  
> Go from a hard working dad to being Mr. Mom
> 
> Well  
> Pampers melt in a Maytag dryer  
> Crayons go up one drawer higher  
> Rewind Barney for the fifteenth time  
> Breakfast six, naps at nine  
> There's bubble gum in the baby's hair  
> Sweet potatoes in my lazy chair  
> Been crazy all day long and it's only Monday  
> Mr. Mom
> 
> Football, soccer and ballet  
> Squeeze in Scouts and PTA  
> And there's that shopping list she left  
> That's seven pages long  
> How much smoke can one stove make  
> The kids won't eat my charcoal cake  
> It's more than any man can take  
> Being Mr. Mom
> 
> Well  
> Pampers melt in a Maytag dryer  
> Crayons go up one drawer higher  
> Rewind Barney for the sixteenth time  
> Breakfast six, naps at nine  
> There's bubble gum in the baby's hair  
> Sweet potatoes in my lazy chair  
> Been crazy all day long and it's only Monday  
> Mr.Mom
> 
> Before I fall in bed tonight  
> If the dog didn't eat the classifieds  
> I'm gonna look just one more time
> 
> 'Cause  
> Pampers melt in a Maytag dryer  
> Crayons go up one drawer higher  
> Rewind Barney for the eighteenth time  
> Breakfast six, naps at nine  
> There's bubble gum in the baby's hair  
> Sweet potatoes in my lazy chair  
> Been crazy all day long   
> Oh been crazy all day long and it's only Monday  
> Mr.Mom
> 
> Balancin' checkbooks, juggling bills  
> Thought there was nothing to it  
> Baby, now I know how you feel  
> What I don't know is how you do it
> 
> Honey, you're my hero

Rhett sits on the light wooden chair that accompanies their light wooden dining room table, barely hanging onto his patience. But he's strong, stronger than the one sitting directly across from him with challenging eyes and a red hot temper. He challenges back with a look of his own, and he's sure, if only momentarily, that he's got her. She won't. She wouldn't. But then there's a twitch in her fingers, a raise of her tiny little eye brow, and she's fast. Quick as lightning she's got a fistful of extra saucy spaghetti, and not for the first time, he mentally curses Link for making this for lunch (the only thing he knows how to cook, Rhett's ass). 

"Don't you do it, Allison," he warns, jaw hard set and muscles tense. 

It's been a morning already, and it's just barely eleven. Already he's had to fight for a bath, sticky juice coating her skin and... her hair? How? That's his question. If only that would have been all. He'd also had to wipe down the walls of her (thankfully washable) marker scribbles. Her justification of it being a makeshift family portrait only softened his heart just a bit, but it still had to go. And then let's not even mention the tantrum thrown when Paw Patrol was, "GO BYE-BYE, DADDY!" 

And now she sits just laying in wait, her tiny little lips, shaped similarly to his own despite her being adopted, twitching up at the corners in a sly attempt at telling her dad, "I'll do what I want, thanks." And then she does it. She cocks her arm, laughs like a maniac, and launches her fistful of red stain maker. 

It splatters partly on his own face, partly on the wall behind him, and she thinks it's great. It's the funniest thing she's ever, ever seen, and Rhett's the butt of her joke, just as he has been since they brought her home from the hospital. 

But he will not yell. Not at her. She is his baby, his pride and joy. His sweet, beautiful, smart... rambunctious, loud, know it all... 

"Link!" He shrieks, ready to tag out to keep his cool. He will not yell, not at this baby. She’s only two, she's only two, she's only two... but she's evil like she's thirty two... he will not yell. 

"Yeah, babe?" Link bounces in, clean as can be, smile on his face (he'd gotten out of fatherly duties for the morning, thanks to their need of getting a few proposals written up for a deadline)- which breaks out further when he sees Rhett, and he laughs, or rather, he has the audacity to laugh, and their baby girl joins in, her’s sounding just like his. She doesn’t share either of their DNA, but he can see the two of them in her; her laugh and her mannerisms are all Link, and... ugh. 

"Alliecat," he mock scolds, "did you throw spaghetti at your daddy?" She nods and giggles like this is her greatest accomplishment. 

"Yes," Rhett interjects, forever feeling ganged up on, "she did. Can you please watch her for a bit so I can get this shi- stuff cleaned up?" 

"Ooh, good save, Daddy," Link rumbles with a wink. He gives him a quick kiss, careful to avoid the soiled part of Rhett's beard before he picks up the baby and takes her away to be cleaned up. Rhett would like to think he's decent at keeping house and keeping the kid clean, but let's be honest, that's Link's area of expertise and Rhett has no doubts that she'll be in pristine condition in mere seconds. 

It takes him a little longer to get himself (and the wall) back together, the time giving him the ability to cool down and collect himself into a somewhat normal human being. His blood is pumping normally and the swell of heat in his belly has passed, so his steps land quietly down the intricately crafted wooden staircase. 

“Dada,” he hears before he sees, and he pauses just around the corner from the living room, just to listen to the two of them talking together. Seeing Link in his element as a father and husband will always, always, be Rhett’s favorite part of the day. 

“What’s up, buttercup?” Is the soft reply, his voice dripping with honeyed adoration. 

“B-ue cay-on, p’ease,” she asks sweetly, and Rhett’s heart swells. They’ve been working on their colors lately, and he’s happy to hear that it might just be sticking. 

“I like how nicely you ask, Allie. Dada’s very proud of you.” 

Link’s always been a natural at all things domestic. Surprising, but true. He’d been the one to take the first step with Rhett. He’d been the one to propose marriage. Propose children. And when they brought that pink little baby home, he’d been the first to bond. It’s obvious now, listening to the two of them, that Rhett had made the best decision he could when he made a family with the two of them, and he decides that he could listen to them forever and never grow bored or any less in love with them and their bond. 

“Daddy like?” She asks, and Rhett perks up at his name being mentioned, a smile prickling at his lips. How he could have ever been frustrated with her, his little girl, he doesn’t know. It was all him, and nothing to do with her (even if she is just as spoiled as her Dada). 

“Oh, I think Daddy will like that a lot. It’s very pretty. I bet he’ll want to hang it up. Can I help you sign it so that we can give it to him?” 

She hums her agreement, and Rhett grins and rolls his eyes. She’s still a toddler, and already Link’s decided that she needs to start working on her letters, working tirelessly hand over hand to help her get it just right. But dammit if their daughter isn’t going to be the smartest baby on this side of the Mississippi. 

“Okay, little girl, yell for Daddy to come in here with us,” Link tells her, and Rhett hears his name, high pitched and ear piercing echoing through the house. But it’s cute. It’s so cute even if his ear drums have burst and he never hears again. 

“Yes?” He asks and finally steps around the corner, and sees his baby, shy and small presses against Link with a colorful piece of paper in her tiny little hands. 

“Tell him, Alliecat,” Link coaxes from his place on the living room floor, pressing a hand to her back and scooting her forward. 

She hands the paper up, and Rhett takes it gratefully. Clearly, there’s no discernible figures present on the page, but he’d be lying if he said that girl didn’t have an eye for color. 

“I sorry, Daddy,” she tells him with those big, wide brown eyes digging into his soul in only a way a child can to a parent. “Mean to throw,” she finishes. 

Rhett’s so lucky. Lucky to have his girl. And so, so lucky to have Link as his partner in all of this. Even if he’d laughed when he’d seen Rhett covered in sticky spaghetti noodles, he still took the time to explain that something like throwing food was no good, and helped her to understand that apologies were important. 

“It is mean to throw,” Rhett agrees as he sinks down carefully to his knees. “But I accept your apology. This picture is so, so nice, Al! I love it. Thank you so much!” He smiles warmly and wraps his arms around her, engulfing completely her tiny frame. Pride radiates from his head to his toes, and she reflects this. 

“Dada help color!” She says happily, turning as much as she can to point at Link who beams back at her. 

“Thank you, Dada,” Rhett chuckles, love blooming in a visible blush over his skin, and Link mouthes that he’s very welcome. 

Later on, far past her bedtime, one story turns to two, turns to three before her lashes finally flutter and her lids fall shut. Link blinks up sleepily at Rhett, a contented smile playing as much as it can. Her sound machine is tuned to crickets, a sound she insured was her favorite when they’d visited both of her grandmothers over the summer break, and her lamp is exchanged for her nightlight before they slip quietly away down the hall. 

“Today was hell,” Rhett states bluntly and Link chuckles back, slipping himself down into their heavy blankets. 

Rhett and Link have always had this thing, where in the filtered moonlight of their bedroom, they stare. Rhett thinks the lighting makes Link’s eyes pop, and Link thinks it makes Rhett’s hair look like a golden halo. The looks always, always turn to something more, and to an outsider, the ritual would seem pointless. But it wasn’t, not when Link crowds into his space and straddles his hips. Not when he kisses up and down his neck. When he pins his hands above his head. When he starts to grind despite them both still being in their pajamas, and- 

“Daddy? Dada?” 

Link scrambles back to his side of the bed, angelic in the way he gets himself back under control long enough to ask her why she’s out of bed. 

“I s’eep with you,” she mumbles, their little girl, and waddles up to Rhett’s side of the bed and raises her arms, trusting that without her having to ask her Daddy will help her up and tuck her in. And of course he does, kissing her temple before he gives Link a long suffering look. 

“This ain’t over, Neal,” he laughs, but Link is already snoring.


	4. I Still Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @mythicaliz Thanks for the request! 
> 
> Warning- very brief homophobic language and very brief though of suicide (VERY brief on both, but take care of yourself if it bothers you!) 
> 
> They all say that you're doing well  
> Living down in Arkansas  
> You got a family now they tell  
> The old days never call to ya  
> Me, I'm working for the man  
> But he ain't got the best of me  
> I have friends and I have plans  
> And someone's got the rest of me  
> But I still love you now and then  
> I love you now and then when I think of ya  
> I still love you now and then  
> I love you now and then  
> I still love you now and then when I think of ya  
> Said a broken heart don't leave a scar  
> I keep it to myself and I  
> I keep my head up though it's hard  
> All these things take a little time  
> 'Cause I still love you now and then  
> I love you now and then when I think of ya  
> I still love you now and then  
> I love you now and then  
> And I still love you now and then when I think of ya  
> Never mind all that they say  
> How are you these days?  
> I laugh and tell them that I'm doing fine  
> It's gonna take time  
> It's gonna take more than time  
> I wish for you the very best  
> You always were the best of us  
> There was you and then the rest  
> And that's the girl I'm thinking of  
> 'Cause I still love you now and then  
> I love you now and then when I think of ya  
> I still love you now and then  
> I love you now and then  
> And I still love you now and then when I think of ya  
> I still love you now and then  
> When her fingers brush my skin  
> When the night falls over all  
> Of everything that's been  
> And everything we were  
> And cannot be again  
> I still love you now and then when I think of ya  
> I think of ya  
> I think of ya

Call it a wave of nostalgia. It's a better alternative than a desperate need for validation when Rhett finally decides to make a Facebook, years and years after it‘s been popularized. He'd left home twenty or so years before and never felt the need to look back. Why would he, when he looks out of his kitchen window at the sprawling mountains, golden tinted in the early morning light. Why would he want to think of that small minded town when he has the great wide open surrounding him, the walls that boxed him in nowhere to be found. 

He doesn't need North Carolina. He doesn't need anyone from Buies Creek. He's doing just fine out here on his own with no one to hold him down. Even so, there’s a little twinge in the back of his mind, a little itch in his brain that begs to be scratched by cured curiosity. 

Hence, the page is made. 

The first name he types into the search bar is his mother’s. It’s no surprise that she, one of the few people he’d kept limited contact with, doesn’t seem to be connected. She never was one for technology, and he assumes that old Jim’s probably skipped out on this form of communication as well. 

His brother comes next. His face, as well as his wife and their children smile brightly in his profile, and Rhett grins back as he scrolls through the limited accessibility. He knows little about the platform, but he knows enough that if he were to request to be his friend, he’d be able to see everything. It isn’t worth it, though, not the memories, the negativity. Not the conversation they would have to have. Instead, he sighs and clicks away. 

The next name he thinks of is a college roommate, Gregg, and as soon as the name makes an appearance, he types it in eagerly. He laughs out loud when he sees how much he’s aged; how much his life has changed in a couple of decades. It almost makes him cry to think of all that he’s missed, especially when Gregg was one of the few people that had always been there for him- supported him when everything went to shit. He’s good and pure and helpful- and Rhett sends him a request without a second thought. His is a conversation that he looks forward to. 

He spends the afternoon looking through page after page, weighing out the pros and cons of contacting his past. Fifty, a hundred profiles he looks at, sees children and marriages and old memories that sting. In the end he only sends a couple dozen friend requests out, and that’s that. He’ll reconnect with a few people if they want, and if not, so be it. No skin off his back. 

And then there’s one last name. The one he’d decided in the beginning that he would avoid. He wouldn’t look him up for his own sanity. 

His brain screams it at him. Won’t let him move from his spot until it’s typed in. Until it’s seen him. Until it knows. 

So he types. Deletes. Types again. 

Charles ‘Link’ Neal. 

He clicks the small icon and frowns when the page is set completely to private. He can’t look... he can’t know without having permission. 

He clicks the profile picture and breathes in deeply at the changes. Gray hair. Laugh lines accentuated by time. Eyes brighter than he’s ever seen. 

And the things that stay the same. His now wife in the picture, according to the little bio beneath the picture, beaming beside him. Her left hand showing off a sparkly ring. They’re married, and of course they are. 

“I’m sorry, Rhett,” Link had told him, eyes rimmed pink with sadness. “I have to... My parents love her and... And you know they are... it’d kill em if... if...” 

“If they knew how much you love me? How much I love you? That it Link? Or, why don’t we just go ahead and say it? If they knew you were a fuckin’ fag? That’s how you think of yourself, isn’t it? Pathetic.” 

There was a lot he would have rather said in that moment, and a lot he wishes he wouldn’t have said. He never would have said the ‘f’ word, especially not how it made Link crumple in on himself. The shame he felt showing on every inch of his face. 

But he didn’t comfort him. He didn’t pick him up off of the floor. He left him there, in a puddle of his own tears as his life fell apart around him. 

And Rhett packed his bags. He packed everything he owned and didn’t say good bye. Tried his best not to even think about Link until he hit the state line. And then, instead of turning around like his heart begged, he pushed the gas down harder and turned the radio louder. 

He’d only spoken to Link once since then, a full two weeks after he left. When he’d had a few too many to drink and the loneliness had gotten to him. He called his number and hoped he’d pick up, and when he did, he was quiet long enough for Link to threaten to hang up before he spoke. 

“Link... it’s me...” 

Me, like he should know who that was. But of course he did. He could pick that voice out of the dark a thousand times if he’d had to. 

“Rhett!” He squeaked, one word in and already his voice was breaking. “Baby, please come home. I miss you, I can’t, just please!” 

“M’not comin’ back, Link. Just wanted to tell you that... M’okay. Y’don’t need to worry ‘bout me. Know how ya get,” he chuckled sadly, wishing the pay phone had a longer chord, either so that he could move around a little more, or maybe to hang himself from. 

“Honey, please. Listen to me. I don’t wanna be without you. Just... just tell me where you are. I’ll come to you. We can... we can start fresh...” 

Rhett smiled softly to himself, allowing the luxury of sinking down to his ass; the phone barely reaching he ear. 

“You don’t want that, baby. And s’okay. I understand. You need you family. Nothin’ wrong with’at.” 

He could hear the sobs on the other side, could practically fucking feel them. And there wasn’t anything he could do; they were because of him. 

“I love you,” Link tried again, still hopeful. 

“And I love you. But it just ain’t gonna work. Not us. But you’n her... man, you c’n have a real life, Link. With babies and... and you c’n be normal. I ain’t worth all’a those tears.” 

Even as he said it, wetness slid down his own cheeks and he knew that if there was anything in the world worth the tears, it was the end of the two of them. 

“I don’t know how to be without you, though,” Link sniffled, small and distant. 

“Well, baby, I’m sorry. But you... you left me first. And... I’m not mad. Not anymore. I get it. I just want you t’be happy. Couldn’t live with m’self if I didn’t say g’bye. So... this is it. This is g’bye. I love you.” 

Even as he went to hang up, he could hear the distressed pleas to stay on the line, to just give him another chance to... Hanging up was the hardest thing he’d ever done. But he’d had to. For Link. 

And now his cursor hovers over the button that’ll catapult him back into his life, and he knows that it’ll derail everything if he clicks it. It’ll ruin him. And maybe even Link, too. But he loves him, even still, he loves him so much. So much so that all of this time, he’s still alone. And that’s the way he’ll stay. 

He clicks back to his home page, away from temptation and away from those eyes that see him even through the screen. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should delete the entire thing. It’s not worth the struggle, the pain. He was fine yesterday, and he’ll be fine tomorrow. 

He’s about to delete the whole thing. Turn back for good, when he gets a notification. One that stops his breathing and stops his heart. How it happened so quickly, he’ll never know. But there it is, in plain writing: 

Charles ‘Link’ Neal has sent you a friend request.


	5. It’s the End of the World As We Know It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's great, it starts with an earthquake  
> Birds and snakes, and aeroplanes  
> And Lenny Bruce is not afraid  
> Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn  
> World serves its own needs,  
> Don't mis-serve your own needs  
> Speed it up a notch, speed, grunt, no, strength  
> The ladder starts to clatter  
> With a fear of height, down, height  
> Wire in a fire, represent the seven games  
> And a government for hire and a combat site  
> Left her, wasn't coming in a hurry  
> With the Furies breathing down your neck  
> Team by team, reporters baffled, trumped, tethered, cropped  
> Look at that low plane, fine, then  
> Uh oh, overflow, population, common group  
> But it'll do, save yourself, serve yourself  
> World serves its own needs, listen to your heart bleed  
> Tell me with the Rapture and the reverent in the right, right  
> You vitriolic, patriotic, slam fight, bright light  
> Feeling pretty psyched  
> It's the end of the world as we know it  
> It's the end of the world as we know it  
> It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine  
> Six o'clock, T.V. hour, don't get caught in foreign tower  
> Slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn  
> Lock him in uniform, book burning, bloodletting  
> Every motive escalate, automotive incinerate  
> Light a candle, light a motive, step down, step down  
> Watch your heel crush, crush, uh oh  
> This means no fear, cavalier, renegade and steering clear  
> A tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies  
> Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives and I decline  
> It's the end of the world as we know it (I had some time alone)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it (I had some time alone)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (time I had some time alone)  
> I feel fine (I feel fine)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (time I had some time alone)  
> The other night I drifted nice continental drift divide  
> Mountains sit in a line, Leonard Bernstein  
> Leonid Brezhnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester Bangs  
> Birthday party, cheesecake, jellybean, boom  
> You symbiotic, patriotic, slam but neck, right, right  
> It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (time I had some time alone)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it  
> It's the end of the world as we know it  
> It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (time I had some time alone)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (time I had some time alone)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)  
> It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (time I had some time alone)

It's easier this way. With the waves crashing against the rutty bones of Link's hips. With Rhett's unruly hair plastered against his sun burnt forehead. With the drying salt of the sea making their skin a sweet, sticky mess. It's easier. 

"How far out you think I could reach?" Link asks with his left eyebrow cocked, a determined twitch of muscle that's been there since the day that Rhett met him. 

"Not nearly as far as I could," Rhett shrugs back, an annoyingly cocky little grin deepening the already deep set wrinkles, the ones that had begun, if you ask Link, when he was six years old. 

"Yeah, well... long legs, weak back... I could have it worse," Link tosses over his shoulder, trying his best at nonchalance as he wades deeper and deeper, the water lapping up past his belly button.

"Weak back!" Rhett scoffs, and the sound of water crashing past goes entropic, and Link shrieks (still keeping his dignity, thank you) without turning around, knowing he's about to- 

The water crests over his head, Rhett's full weight perched against his shoulder blades. The sand digs at his knees, though only superficially. Rhett holds him under longer than he used to, back before he realized that Link was a little stronger than he looks, and for this new show of strength, Link is grateful. 

He rocks his legs back and gets his feet under him properly, flat and solid against the ocean floor and rockets himself up, breaching the surface like some fucking dolphin showing off for the sky above. He's triumphant and exuberant, laughing as he wraps himself around Rhett and uses each muscle that he deems necessary to return the favor. Eventually it works, and Link holds him down by standing on the same back that he'd made fun of only moments before.

He stays there for as long as he dares (let's be honest, he's going easy on him), and smiles when Rhett pops back up looking wild and sodden. 

"You coulda killed me, Link," he laughs, and without thinking- "Then you'd be the last man left." 

It's a joke, clearly it's a joke, but Link's smile falls all the same. The gravity of what he'd said bringing back their obvious mortality. He's thinking, like he always does, that one of them is going to go first. And the other is going to be alone. And not just alone in the sense of having your soul mate gone, being left alone in a world of strangers, but... alone, alone. Last man standing alone. 

It's been just the two of them for a little while now. Long enough for Rhett to have stopped waking up in cold sweats expecting to hear city noise, but not long enough for Link to have accepted their fate. And so when his smile morphs into a frown, Rhett knows he's fucked up and he's quick to close the gap between them. Now's not the time to think of the end of the world, it's time to think of the only other person left. 

"M'sorry, bo. Wasn't thinkin'. M'okay," he assures, mouth pressed to the little dip between Link's shoulder and neck. His favorite little place, one he'd never been allowed to explore before all of this. But now he’s been given the okay to touch and speak as he pleases, and he’s always up for taking advantage of this new freedom. 

"It's just... it's really scary, y'know? I mean, we're still young, relatively speaking, but... we could fall. Get sick. Anything. And m'so worried I'll be left alone." 

It's not an unfamiliar thought to either of them. It's an inevitability. It's something that's absolutely going to happen. Hopefully not soon, but, at some point one of them is going to find the other one gone, and they're going to have to go it alone. They're going to have to forage and camp and hike... all without... it's something that neither of them can dwell on for too long. So Rhett does what he always does. He changes the subject. Tries to make Link laugh. 

"Hold me," he demands, already starting to wrap a leg around Link's waist. 

"Hold you?! How the hell am I s'pose ya do that? You're too big!" He squeaks, but still he laughs, a watery and tinkly sound, and Rhett smiles triumphantly. 

"We're in water. You can do it. Even if we were on land you'd still do it if you loved me," he reasons, barely giving Link anytime to brace himself before the other leg is wrapped, too.

They're too shallow for Link to feel confident in his grip, so he toddles a little deeper and let's the salty ocean take some of Rhett's weight. 

"If I loved you," he scoffs, adjusting his hands to settle under Rhett's thighs as Rhett adjusts his arms around Link's neck and rests his chin on Link's freckled shoulder. 

"Yeah, if you loved me..." he hums, relaxed in warm arms and a soft sway of the current. 

"You're right. If I did... obviously I don't now... just look at how mistreated you are, huh?" Link teases and moves a hand up to pat Rhett's back, and then, softly, "You're turnin' red."

Mistreated isn't the word Rhett would use when Link carries him as far to the shore as he can before he sets him down so gently it almost hurts. Mistreated isn't the right word when he squirts a glob of scavenged high SPF sunscreen on his hands and rubs down Rhett's back and shoulders without asking. Mistreated isn't the right word when Link kisses the sunburnt freckles of his skin and wraps his own found beach towel around Rhett's shoulders and chooses instead to sit directly on the sand. Mistreated is far from how Rhett feels when he scoots over on his own towel to make room and Link accepts, laying his head as gingerly against Rhett's as he can.

Long after the sun has stopped being so generous with its warmth and bright yellow rays, it instead provides a different gift; one of pink clouds and a deep set purple just over the horizon. The sea winds whips in lazily, and maybe it would be a little too cool if it weren't for the fire burning not far from where they sit perched on a fortuitous piece of drift wood. 

"Had a lot of fun today," Link smiles up at Rhett, and for a minute he can pretend that their whole world hasn't been flipped upside down. He can pretend that it's just he and Link, having sought out the seclusion rather than having it forced upon them. 

"Me too, brother." 

The silence between them used to bother Link, always forcing him to find some inconsequential thing to talk about from his day, but soon after... all of this... he'd realized he was only doing it to hear himself talk. He knows now that there's nothing better than watching Rhett think, come up with new plans and ideas to make Link smile, just as he's doing now. One eye brow is cocked, and his eyes dance across the flames. 

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout now, honey?" Some habits die hard. 

"Thinkin'... maybe we should head to the mountains next. Go campin' or somethin'. Sound okay?" 

The way he asks it, so sweet and gentle, like he might be afraid of Link's answer. He grins anyway, looking up at Rhett like he hangs the moon, because really- he does. 

“Where else would I go, bo?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that I’m open to requests 😊


	6. You Shook Me All Night Long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothin’ but smut here :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She was a fast machine  
> She kept her motor clean  
> She was the best damn woman I had ever seen  
> She had the sightless eyes  
> Telling me no lies  
> Knockin' me out with those American thighs  
> Taking more than her share  
> Had me fighting for air  
> She told me to come but I was already there  
> 'Cause the walls start shaking  
> The earth was quaking  
> My mind was aching  
> And we were making it and you  
> Shook me all night long  
> Yeah you shook me all night long  
> Working double time  
> On the seduction line  
> She was one of a kind, she's just mine all mine  
> Wanted no applause  
> Just another course  
> Made a meal out of me and came back for more  
> Had to cool me down  
> To take another round  
> Now I'm back in the ring to take another swing  
> 'Cause the walls were shaking  
> The earth was quaking  
> My mind was aching  
> And we were making it and you  
> Shook me all night long  
> Yeah you shook me all night long  
> And knocked me out and then you  
> Shook me all night long  
> You had me shakin' and you  
> Shook me all night long  
> Yeah you shook me  
> Well you took me  
> You really took me and you  
> Shook me all night long  
> Oh you  
> Shook me all night long  
> Yeah, yeah, you  
> Shook me all night long  
> You really took me and you  
> Yeah you shook me, yeah you shook me  
> All night long

Rhett lays breathless next to Link, chest rising and falling to capacity. He spares a glance over, takes note that Link's breath is just as ragged, and when he catches Rhett staring, he giggles, high pitched and scratchy. 

"Damn, baby, you're so fuckin' good," he praises, and Rhett can't help but blush at his words. He's always like this after, so filthy, his words radiating sex and lust, all wrapped up in a thickly deep voice. It's just what he needs as he comes down from this high, settling down into the comfort of his oversized mattress. 

"You ain't fallin' asleep on me, are ya darlin'?" It's funny, along with his words being markedly dirtier, they also drip with southern honey, sweet and sticky and just what Rhett craves. 

He cracks an eye open, just one, and peers over at Link. It's not like he has far to look, as he's already crowding his space and breathing in Rhett's exhalations. 

"M'tired, Linkster," he reasons and closes his eye once more, pulling the comforter up securely to his bearded chin. 

"Rhe-ett," Link sighs, like Rhett's causing him the greatest inconvenience he's ever experienced. 

Link's hands find the pillow on either side of Rhett's head, the weight  dipping down to the mattress. Rhett opens both eyes this time, to see Link staring right back down at him, eyes hooded and dark, even more pronounced without his glasses. 

"Can I help you with somethin'?" He chuckles, and kisses back when Link presses his lips down softly. 

"I want you," Link answers. He says it so surely, like he's only asking for a glass of water, like it's just a fact of life, but still, it makes Rhett's heart flutter a little in his chest. 

"You have me, baby," he teases, knowing exactly what Link means. 

"Rhett. I want you. I wanna fuck you again," he murmurs and noses into the crook of Rhett's neck before he places hot and damp kisses up and down the vein. 

"We ain't teenagers anymore, man. Hell, we ain't even in our thirties anymore. So how's about we get some shut eye and pick this back up in the mornin'." 

The way Link freezes his kissing, he knows he's not going to get his way, not that he's against Link's plan, whatever it is. He'd do anything for his boy, anything and everything there is to do. 

Link pulls back the blanket just enough to slither inside, laying his full weigh on top of Rhett, but Rhett's never minded before, and he sure as hell doesn't now. 

"Can't get it up again so soon, grandpa?" Link asks, dark and wicked and wild. "That's okay," he whispers right into Rhett's ear, allowing for the warmth of it to send chills down Rhett's spine, "You don't have to be hard to take it, baby." 

As he says it he grinds down, slowly at first, and then a little faster and a littler faster, because he's giving Rhett an out. If he really doesn't want to, of course he'll stop, he'll be good and take care of things in the restroom. He might be domineering, but he's not about to force Rhett into anything he's against. But by the way Rhett's eyes start to roll back and his breathing becomes panting, Link knows he's in. 

"Lookit you, Rhett. I can getcha goin' whenever I want." 

Rhett rolls his eyes but says nothing, because there is nothing to say. It's true. It's always been true. Puberty had shown them the way, and they'd stayed the same ever since. Decades worth of Link knowing exactly what Rhett wanted had proven his point, and now is no exception. 

"You gonna keep inflating that ego or you gonna fuck me already?" 

Rhett knows what Link likes, too. A little back talk. A little push when Link wants to pull.

Link cackles at this, clamping his thighs around Rhett's before he starts to move again, catching both of them off guard by the sudden friction. One hand splays out on Rhett's chest and the other sneaks it's way behind them as Link's back arches to accommodate the necessary length. His fingers walk their way down Rhett's body, finding just the spot he was looking for, still wet and sticky marking the place where Link just recently released. 

"Oh, baby," he sighs contentedly, "You're still ready for me, huh? You're always so ready."

His fingers explore a little longer, twisting and spreading like they know each little place to make Rhett sing, and really, the muscle memory is real. Rhett's mouth drops open and his eyes screw shut, and Link grins in a wicked satisfaction at the sight. 

"Link," Rhett breathes, "please."

"Please what, honey? Use your big boy words," Link purrs, voice like silk, like black fucking satin, caressing Rhett's ears in the softest way. 

Rhett writhes beneath him, sure above all else that no one, not any fucking one, could make him feel the way Link does. Hyper sexual and sexy and loved, all rolled up into one perfect package. 

"You're thinkin' so hard I can practically see it," Link teases and nips at Rhett's lower lip, a sensitive spot that's been Link's own little personal paradise since they were teenagers. It still makes Rhett wriggle just the same as it did when he was seventeen, and it still makes Link's stomach flutter with lust just as it did when he was the same age and still learning about himself. 

"Please fuck me, Link. Please, baby," he finally breaks, finally can think straight enough to get his needs met. And Link is so, so proud. It took him a long time (not just tonight) to say what he needed, and now that he's open about it, Link will give him whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. 

"Well since you asked so..." he lowers his body and guides himself inside, "...nicely..." 

Rhett's overworked and oversensitive, sure. His body is just as (if not more) tired than his mind. But there's a part of him, primal- that's so ready for this. Needs it. Craves it. That part of his brain- just the basics, runs at full speed and blocks out the rest of it, leaving him a blithering mess. 

"Oh, oh, yeah," is really all he has the capacity for, because something like, "you always know just how to use me," is too many words and requires too much thought. He'll settle for incoherent moans, and Link will soak it up nonetheless.

He alternates between fast and hard and soft and slow. A rhythm he's been cultivating for a while, a press of Rhett's body that only he knows. Like Rhett is a lock and Link is the combination. 

Link gives another few strokes and goes in for the kill, leaning back to press one of Rhett's spread legs up and over, moving him to lay on his side before Link slips back in. This has always been one of Rhett's favorite positions. Easy on his back. Hard where is counts. 

"Fuck, you're so fuckin' pretty, Rhett. So fuckin' pretty," Link whines, losing himself in the sensation. The way Rhett breathes, open mouthed and panting does something to him, knowing he's the one that's left him like this. He groans at the words, loving the twangy vulgarity that Link always seems to spit during times like this.

“Fuck,” Link groans again as he leans forward, bracing one hand against Rhett’s side turned hip as the other snakes around his very attentive length. “M’gonna make you come again. N’maybe again after that. And then, ah, Jesus, Rhett!” 

Link’s voice has always been the best way to get Rhett unglued. And if he really has to pinpoint the reason, he could tell you easily. Thinking back on all of their stays at each other’s houses (and the never staying in their spot on the floor), Link’s always been a talker. He’d sneak into Rhett’s bed just to keep on talking without waking up the parents, and as they got older the words got dirtier, and dirtier, and now here they are with Rhett’s come dripping down Link’s fingers and Link’s come dripping down Rhett’s thighs. 

It’s not long after (just enough time to keep his legs from giving out underneath of him) that Rhett’s under the hot spray of the shower, letting the steam wash away the grime and sweat that he’d picked up over night. The heat both relaxes him and calms him down, enough so that he can think over every little detail of the evening. From Link buying him a pricey steak dinner, to the two of them finishing a bottle of wine, to Link starting at his neck and working his way up to his lips before he lead him to the bedroom. It’s been a great night, perfect even, and it’s made even more so when the shower curtain crinkles behind him and a strong pair of arms wrap around his waist. 

“Thanks for tonight, Rhett. I mean it,” he mumbles and kisses the space between Rhett’s shoulder blades. “I love you.” 

Another kiss and Rhett’s spinning in his arms and pinning him to the shower wall. 

“You love me, huh?” He asks darkly, and Link grins and nods his head. 

“Sure do, brother.” 

“Show me how much,” Rhett coaxes and pushes Link to his knees.


	7. Need You Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picture perfect memories  
> Scattered all around the floor  
> Reaching for the phone 'cause, I can't fight it anymore  
> And I wonder if I ever cross your mind  
> For me it happens all the time  
> It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now  
> Said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now  
> And I don't know how I can do without, I just need you now  
> Another shot of whiskey, can't stop looking at the door  
> Wishing you'd come sweepin' in the way you did before  
> And I wonder if I ever cross your mind  
> For me it happens all the time  
> It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk, and I need you now  
> Said I wouldn't call but I lost all control and I need you now  
> And I don't know how I can do without, I just need you now  
> Whoa oh whoa  
> Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all  
> It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now  
> And I said I wouldn't call but I'm a little drunk and I need you now  
> And I don't know how I can do without, I just need you now  
> I just need you now

It's late. Probably too late to be having these thoughts. Too late to even entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might pick up if he calls. It's a bad idea. It's terrible, even. But with a whisky brined mind and a neglected cellphone that's just begging for attention, he picks up the phone and dials the number. It's not attached to a name, not anymore, but the number is one he couldn't ever forget even though he's tried his hardest. 

With each ring, his heart goes up in his throat a little more, his stomach falls a little lower, and the piercing sting of tears grows stronger. It's not fair. It just isn't, and it won't ever be, and dammit, ain't that a kick in the fucking head? 

The voice in his ear alerts him that the number is currently unavailable, but he's free to leave a message, and maybe the owner of the number will get back to him. It's shitty; the robotic voice that gives him instructions, rather than the warm voice he longs to hear. But he waits for the beep anyway, and when he hears it, he's quiet for a long time. 

"Rhett?" He nearly whispers. His voice is so raw and ragged that it might as well not even exist at this point. But he's gone this far, and he should just keep on marching, right? 

"Hi. I, uh, this was probably... prob'ly a bad idea. V'had a bit to drink, and you know that's always made me sent...imental." 

He's quiet again as he thinks of where to go with this. He almost hopes that Rhett won't ever hear it. But a bigger part of him wants more than anything for him to call him right back and say he's on his way over. But then again, that's just the whisky. Maybe. 

"Don't really know why'm callin'. Guess I... I just wanted to say... y'know. Those things that... that I said before... well, they were real awful, Rhett. And I'm so-..." 

He's cut off before he can finish that sentence. Cut off by the voice telling him he has the option to hang up or press five to redo the message, but he's so irritated by being cut off that he hangs up... and then regrets it. That was damn near the dumbest message he's ever left, and it was the one more than any of the rest that even mattered. He blew it. He blew everything. Again.

Fuck it. He takes another swing of whiskey straight from the bottle, his small squared off glass long since forgotten, and sits back in his pile of old pictures. How could he not miss him? Look at how engrained in his life Rhett is, or well, was. Birthday parties, bad hair styles, awkward puberty, driving, graduation, college. You name it. Rhett was there for it. And now here he is, forty years old and his partner is gone. He's had him for half of his life, how the hell is he supposed to do the second half alone?

Doesn't really matter, though, does it? He could stay here like this, half way numb from the inside out, and drink and drink and drink, and the feeling will only grow duller and duller. 

He's just pulled the bottle to his lips again, a drag of a tear shredding down his cheek, when his phone rings. Lights up like it excited to show him who's calling, and when he sees that same old number his stomach drops to the floor. 

He could just ignore it. Pretend it's not real. He could just end the call and block the number and never think about it again- but who's he kidding? Like hell he'll pass up hearing that low way that Rhett says his name. 

"'Llo?" He answers, real smooth, because he can be nonchalant, okay? He's not some lost little boy waiting for-

"Got your message," is the answer. No malice. No happiness. Just that same numb feeling that Link was thinking about earlier, and he hates it. Hates that Rhett might feel like he does. He's too good for it. 

"Yeah," Link mumbles and drags the fingers of his free hand across the back of his neck. "M'sorry ba- Rhett. I, uh, shouldn'a called. It was cruel to both of us." 

"Is there a reason you called, Link?" He asks, and there's that way he says his name; never tasted sweeter coming from anyone else and it almost makes him cry. Right there on the phone. Almost makes him look more pathetic than he already is. 

"Was just thinkin' 'bout ya, I suppose. M'sorry again. I didn't mean to ruin your night, honey. Really." As soon as he says it, he feels the white hot pain of irritation with himself. Rhett is not his honey. Not anymore. He ruined that. Rhett is not his baby or his bo or his sweetheart or anything else. He's not even his friend anymore, and he doesn't know what gives him the right to speak that way to Rhett, but here he is, and it's too late to apologize for not apologizing the right way. 

"Everything okay with you?" 

It's clear that Link's drunk. He knows that. He's never been one to hold his liquor exceptionally well, alright, sue him if you must. But Rhett's never minded it before, and it doesn't sound like he minds it now. It sounds like he's worried and that he wants Link to be okay. And that's... well that's encouraging, right? 

"You ever think about me?" He spits into the mouthpiece, and why why why he thinks that was a good idea was lost somewhere a handful of shots ago. 

Rhett's silent on the other end. Just quietly breathing like this conversation isn't happening. Or maybe like he's giving Link an out to think of something better to say. And he tries; to think, but it- it's not very productive. The only thing he comes up with is: 

"I think about you all'a time. Every day. Every damn day, baby." And there's a name that he shouldn't have called him, but for as much as he cares only a moment ago, he couldn't give a shit less now. 

"Link-" Rhett breathes, but it doesn't sound like it's going to precede a declaration of undying love. It sounds more like a prayer, like maybe he's begging Link to just shut up and never speak to him again. 

"Just tell me you still love me," Link begs, fucking pleads, because he's started to move around a little, and he thinks the alcohol is only  
catching up to him a little more. His head's foggy and deep under water, but he's gotta know. He's just gotta. "Cause if you don't... if you don't, Rhett... Rhett, I'll hang up'n you won't ever hear from me again." And gosh, why was that so hard to say? Probably because his tongue was a thousand pounds. And, oh yeah, the answer is probably going to be a no, so he doesn't really want to hear it anyway. 

There's another beat of silence, and again, Link is compelled to fill it. 

"I still love you. Y'know that? Cause- because I think I'll spend my whole life lovin'... lovin' you. And lovin' you hair'n your body n'your laugh. Damn I miss'at laugh, Rhett, baby. I miss'it. Miss you. Miss you so much. Jus'... damn I jus' want you back. Do anything for ya." 

Somehow Rhett lets him finish his little speech. Lets him cry and moan through the words. Doesn't say a thing when Link sniffles and rambles like a fool. He waits patiently like he always has. But then, he says something, and Link's body freezes up like it's made of ice. 

"You still want me?" 

He says it quiet and scared and it makes Link cry all the harder. Because duh, yes, duh, absolutely. More than anything. How could he think anything different... Probably because Link was the worst to him. 

But... but he won't be. Not ever again. Never. 

"Oh, Rhett. Wish... wish I could get t'you right now... I could... I could get an... an Uber. Or, or, I'll walk. Can I see you? Can I tell you in person how much I still wan' ya?"

"You're a real piece of work, you know that, Neal?" 

Finally, deservedly, there's a bit of fire on Rhett's words. A little bit of distaste for the conversation, and honestly it's not a moment too soon. Rhett should hate him. Should tell him to forget the number. But he doesn't, because he's always been far too kind when Link was concerned. For once Link feels bad about it. 

"I know. Never doubted that..."

"You're not going to be seeing me tonight, Link. Go to sleep... on your side so you don't drown in your own fuckin' puke. Idiot." 

And then there's three little beeps and the call is over. And Link, well he didn't think he'd get to talk to him at all, but then he did, and now it's over and it's too much. And he wishes he'd just thrown his phone at a wall or dropped it in his whisky... anything that would have stopped him from dialing him. He's stupid. And worthless. And pathetic and undeserving and... 

When he comes to, the room is full of light. The sun is back, and there's a pounding in his head like no other. It's loud and merciless and he can fucking hear it... no. No, that's the fucking door. And great. Perfect. 

He almost doesn't answer it, certain it's a solicitor, but he's sort of in the mood to be a dick, and who better than a stranger to take it out on? 

His legs don't work too well just now, wobbly and unsure like a fresh baby deer, but he's determined to get to the door- if only to tell the knocker (pounder) to fuck off. And it's on the tip of his tongue when the door flings open... but then Link has to look up and all of the words catch in his dried out throat. 

"You look like shit," Rhett mentions and looks him up and down. He doesn't wait to be invited in, instead he just brushes past like he owns the place... because he did, once upon a time. 

"I feel it, too," Link agrees and shuts out the world behind him. 

"This place is a wreck. Where's neat freak Neal?" 

"I think he died," Link grumbles and plops down on the couch, shame and embarrassment overtaking him. 

"Bummer." 

When he doesn't say anything else, Link just stares, and Rhett stares back from his place on the middle of the living room floor. There's an odd moment where it almost normal, like maybe Rhett's standing there to ask Link what he wants for dinner. But it's not normal. And Link is breaking a little more with each ticking second. 

"Why you here, Rhett?" 

"Because you called me last night. Judging by the smell'a this place, I'm guessin' you don't remember?" 

Link shakes his head and averts his gaze as fear grips in his guts. Sinks it’s cold talons in deep and squeezes. Shit. It's not how he planned it. Any of it. Sure, he'd tried to call a dozen- a hundred- times, but he'd never been brave enough to hit dial. And here he is, unsure of what he even said. 

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to bother you. I-"

"You told me you love me. And you miss me... did you mean it, Link?"

Link opens his mouth with no real clue as to where he’s going with this, so instead of saying something terribly stupid, sure that he’ll only make it worse, he closes it back just as quickly. And Rhett’s brow goes down deep and his eyes fly up high at the ceiling, just as his chest rises and falls with the heavy air that surrounds them. 

“So help me god, Link. Just... just answer the damn question. You... owe me this much.” 

The tremble in his voice is what spurs Link to go. To hop to his feet and cross the distance between them. Because when Rhett hurts, he hurts, and they’ve both had enough of that for a lifetime. 

“I’ll always love you, bo,” he murmurs and wraps his arms around Rhett’s waist, uncaring that Rhett’s back goes stiff as a board and his own long arms have no interest in returning the favor. “Always have. Ain’t nothin’ that can change it. M’sorry to have upset you. Really,” he babbles into Rhett’s chest. 

Rhett’s breath comes out ragged, and without needing to see, Link knows he’s crying. Knows he’s too far gone for any of Link’s words to mean a damn thing, so he only holds him closer and closer still as his hands rub up and down his spine. 

“I love you, too, Link.” 

It’s only then that he pulls away; to look up and make sure he wasn’t having some auditory hallucination. And Rhett nods like he knows what’s on Link’s mind- and realistically, he probably does. 

“What’s this mean?” Link asks hopefully, trying to be careful not to pressure him into saying anything that Link wants to hear. He’d rather it be real and true. Please, just let it be real. 

“It means...” Rhett thinks, “it means you go get a shower. And you take me to breakfast. And we... we talk about this. See if there’s anything left to save...” 

It’s silly, because of course it’s worth saving. They’ve always been worth it. But Link sobs in relief anyway, giving him one more hug before he darts for the stairs and gets the quickest shower of his life.


	8. Landslide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I took my love, I took it down  
> Climbed a mountain and I turned around  
> And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills  
> 'Til the landslide brought me down  
> Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?  
> Can the child within my heart rise above?  
> Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides?  
> Can I handle the seasons of my life?  
> Mmm  
> Well, I've been 'fraid of changin'  
> 'Cause I've built my life around you  
> But time makes you bolder  
> Even children get older  
> And I'm gettin' older, too  
> Well, I've been 'fraid of changin'  
> 'Cause I've built my life around you  
> But time makes you bolder  
> Even children get older  
> And I'm gettin' older, too  
> I'm gettin' older, too  
> Ah, take my love, take it down  
> Oh, climb a mountain and turn around  
> And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills  
> Well, the landslide will bring it down  
> And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills  
> Well, the landslide will bring it down  
> Oh, the landslide will bring it down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to fanbabble for the request! Hope you like it. :)

Link sat perched in his spot on the brown leather couch in their office. It was the best place he could come up with to think; the lighting just right, a breeze from the overhead cooling drifted past him. The cushion was well worn with his form, fitting perfectly there always relaxed him when he needed it. 

And just to his right was an empty cushion, but one that was wrinkled with wear, too, though not from him. Of course he couldn’t say for sure, but if he had to guess, Rhett sank right in when he sat there as well. The thought brought a little smile to his face; the simple domesticity of a simple little couch. 

The routine of everyday life showing in a physical form just beneath and beside him. Their proof of success. A manifestation of a path laid out perfectly for them, one set with time and continued security. One born of two boys who didn’t want a typical nine to five, steak and potatoes life. Of two men who picked up a camera and decided to do something, anything, so long as it made someone else smile. And in turn, it made them smile. And it was good. 

It was good for a long while. Even in the beginning when they didn’t have much, save for a handful of subscribers. It was good because like always, Link could look over and there he was, looking back with an eager grin and a promise that this’ll go somewhere- somewhere big. 

It was good for so long that Link didn’t realize when it started to be less so. There wasn’t a reason for it, not really. Those handful of subscribers doubled, and then doubled again, and before they knew it there was millions watching. And it, again, was good. So fucking good that they weren’t struggling anymore. They’d moved across country, sure, but they were settled in a house bigger than either of them had ever even seen, let alone lived in. Their bank accounts never ran dry and there was never a question of where their next meal was coming from. And Link got to wake up to scratchy bearded kisses and go to sleep just the same. So why, why, why, was it just... not good anymore? 

He asked himself that question a lot in the beginning, when he’d first felt the twinge of animosity towards their channel. The sound of their alarm blaring in his face no sooner than the sun had come up day after day. The long, so long, meetings that seemed to drone on and on made his skin itch and his eyes nearly cross with boredom. The incessant way his “character,” was treated on the show. Never able to win a game. Always coming off as a fucking doofus. It was an act. Every bit of it. He was college educated and arguably in better physical shape than Rhett (not that he would ever, ever blame Rhett for it, nor would he compare the two of them under normal  
circumstances). But he was growing tired of it. Tired of the show. Tired of being recognized any time he ran out for a gallon of milk. He was just tired. 

“You look like a man that could use a drink,” he heard from the doorway to their office. He wasn’t sure how he’d looked before he spotted Rhett, but he knew that as soon as he did, a smile took over whatever expression it was. 

“Just thinkin’,” he murmured and patted the wrinkled leather next to him. 

“Thinkin’ about what, honey?” Rhett asked softly. He always knew. Always knew when Link wasn’t okay, and he always seemed to know how to make it better. He sat in his usual place and pulled Link to his chest, running thick and calloused fingers through Link’s hair. He’d have to fix it later, but that didn’t matter just then. 

“I don’t really wanna talk about it, Rhett.” That was a lie, he did want to talk about it. But more than wanting to talk, he wanted to keep Rhett happy in his blissful, ignorant little bubble. If he kept quiet, Rhett wouldn’t stress himself out. He wouldn’t bend over backwards in an attempt to make Link happy. He wouldn’t uproot himself. Everything would stay the same, and Rhett would be secure and safe and just... him. 

“You know I ain’t gonna let ya get away with that, don’tcha?” He chuckled deep in his chest and Link closed his eyes tightly against the vibration on his cheek. 

“Y’know, I’ve heard some people’s husbands let ‘em just not talk if they don’t want. Sometimes their boundaries actually get respected.” 

“Oh, is that so? Well, some people haven’t been with their husband since they had baby teeth. And before I was your husband, I was your best friend. And you know what that means, Link?” He asked, and Link rolled his eyes, knowing that whatever was coming next was going to be just the opposite of what he wanted. 

“What’s that, Rhett?” He asked with a huff, and Rhett’s eyes sparkled with mischief. 

“It means,” he started, and pushed Link to his back and pressed his weight down against him with a hearty laugh. “... that I don’t give a shit about annoying you to get what I want. It also means that I’m dead. And the only way to bring me back is to talk to me.” He waited for Link to grunt out a laugh (this always made Link laugh whether he wanted to or not) and then, nearly just a whisper, “please tell me what’s wrong, baby. Let me help.” 

Again, Link squeezed his eyes shut. The raw way that Rhett spoke to him, the sincerity in his voice. He didn’t deserve it. Rhett was far too sweet for him. Here he was worried about Link, and Link was worrying himself about what? His dream job? They’d literally built their whole lives around it. And he wanted to just... stop? 

“You can’t help, Rhett. And you’ll hate me when I tell you,” he choked, tears rolling down his cheeks now, fogging the lenses of his glasses. 

Rhett pulled himself up just enough to look at Link, and his brow creased deep with concern. 

“Hey,” he soothed, and plucked Link’s glasses from his nose and settled them on the nearest table. “I ain’t ever gonna hatecha. Love you too much for all’a that. Please tell me, Link. Please.” 

“No matter what I say,” he sniffled, “you’re gonna come home with me, right? You’ll be there when I wake up in the mornin’, and we’ll still be together and we always will, right? Please, please tell me we’ll still be together,” he pleaded, working himself up into deeper and deeper sobs. 

Rhett stared back at him with his jaw hung open as Link grabbed at his shirt and wound it in his fists, like he was desperate to keep him there. Keep him where he could touch him and hold him love him. Rhett would have been lying if he’d said that his heart wasn’t beating a mile a minute, worrying that whatever was going to come out of his mouth next was going to be detrimental. 

“I promise, Link. I’ll still be here,” he told him anyway, because, really, was there anything that could split the two? 

“I... I...” Link gasped, and Rhett leaned down to kiss his cheek once, twice, before he laid his head down on his chest and ran his hand up and down his side. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay baby. You’re okay. Just breathe. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just stop cryin’ okay? Hate to see you so sad.” 

But Link was resolute. He’d been holding it in for so long, and he’d come this far. If he didn’t get it out now, he never would, and he’d be stuck in this rut forever. 

“I wanna quit the show,” he blurted, and let loose a fresh wail of self hatred and fear of hurting his partner. 

“Oh gosh, Link...” 

A year later Link wakes up in an oversized bed with blinding yellow light streaming through the opened curtains overlooking the crashing waves of a beach. Paradise would be a better word for it, really. He smiles at the sounds of birds chirping and the smell of cooking bacon coming in through the cracked bedroom door. He stretches languidly for a long while, adjusting to waking up slowly and on his own time. 

He doesn’t bother with clothes when he walks into the living area of their rented condo, and the open floor plan lends allowance for seeing Rhett working the stove like he was meant for it. He, always the dare devil, cooks with out any clothing either, and the deep tan mingled with splotchy freckles is too enticing for Link to stay away. 

“Hawaii does you good, baby,” he hums appreciatively into Rhett’s shoulder blades as he kisses at each freckle he sees. 

“You keep that up and I’ll do you good,” he laughs back, and even after all of this time, Link’s stomach flutters just as it did when they’d first kissed. 

“Promise?” He asks and keeps on kissing. 

“Always. But breakfast first.” 

It’s only much later, after they’d been tangled up in the sheets, and then untangled again, that Rhett brings up work. He does so hesitantly, even still, but there’s no reason for it. 

“We have to go into the office next week, honey,” he tells him quietly. 

“I know. It’s okay, Rhett. You don’t have to tiptoe around it. It’s just for a few days. I can handle it,” he smiles and pinches at Rhett’s cheek. “I’m well aware of the arrangement. One guest appearance a month. A couple of meetings, and then it’s back in Stevie’s hands.” 

Rhett lets out a sigh of relief and grins back at Link. Link, who let him keep the business. Link, who met him halfway and helps him run it from behind the scenes. Link, who looks so much happier and healthier away from the constant spot light. Link, his Link.


	9. Heat of the Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never meant to be so bad to you  
> One thing I said that I would never do  
> A look from you and I would fall from grace  
> And that would wipe the smile right from my face
> 
> Do you remember when we used to dance  
> And incidents arose from circumstance?  
> One thing led to another, we were young  
> And we would scream together songs unsung
> 
> It was the heat of the moment  
> Telling me what my heart meant  
> The heat of the moment shone in your eyes
> 
> And now you find yourself in '82  
> The disco hot-spots hold no charm for you  
> You can't concern yourself with bigger things  
> You catch the pearl and ride the dragon's wings
> 
> 'Cause it's the heat of the moment  
> The heat of the moment  
> The heat of the moment shone in your eyes
> 
> And when your looks are gone and you're alone  
> How many nights you sit beside the phone?  
> What were the things you wanted for yourself?  
> Teenage ambition you remember well
> 
> It was the heat of the moment  
> Telling you what your heart meant  
> The heat of the moment shone in your eyes
> 
> It was the heat of the moment  
> Heat of the moment  
> Heat of the moment shone in your eyes

"You fuckin' kiddin' me right now?" 

Rhett steps back and wipes the back of his hand across his spit dampened lips, eyes wide and heart throbbing in his chest. He's pissed. Even more so than he had been just moments ago when he was standing toe to toe screaming obscenities in Link's face, and listening as Link slung them right back at him. 

It was stupid in retrospect. Arguing over nothing. Well, not nothing. It was a lack of respect on Rhett's part, really. He shouldn't have taken the last of Link's cereal, okay? But fuck, when have they ever kept anything from the other. You grow up rubbing elbows with someone, you tend to share. And that's why he hadn't thought twice about pouring himself the bowl. 

When Link came back from class with a growling belly and hankering for something sweet, naturally he went for the mini wheats. Like, obviously he'd want them, that's why he fucking bought them. So, it made perfect sense that when he found the box just where he'd left it, but decidedly very empty, he lost it a little. He's always been short tempered, but usually it was reserved for strangers on the street and terrible drivers. Never for Rhett. Not ever. Not until then. 

Link was being a thick headed little prick, if you asked Rhett. A controlling, self centered bitch, really. 

And Rhett was an inconsiderate fucking ass hole, according to Link. He was always thinking of himself and no one else. Would it kill him to just, one fucking time, realize that there were other people in the world? 

It was then that Rhett told him he knew, he fucking knew that there were other people in the world. How could he even think that he was alone when he always had Link? 

He didn't mean it the way it came out. He didn't... well, he didn't mean it like that. Not the way it implied that he HAD Link, versus, just like, had him. 

The thought hadn't occurred to Link. He just heard that it was only he and Rhett in Rhett's world, and he didn't know why but something about it just... it just... it did something. Something weird and something big and something so unexpected that he didn't have time to think much beyond DO. And he did. 

He grabbed Rhett's shirt collar and pulled him down and kissed him. He fucking kissed him like he did it everyday; like he'd done it a million times before. 

It was over before he'd even realized what he'd done. After Rhett pushed him away and screeched like he'd been burned. It was then that he took time to evaluate and... oh. Shit. 

"You fuckin' kiddin' me right now?" 

"I'm sorry," Link yips, only now a little afraid of the rage etched on Rhett's face. He's never, ever, ever, seen that look in his eye. 

"You're sorry?" Rhett scoffs, hand still presses against the corner of his mouth. 

"I don't know why I did that," Link tries again. 

"You don't know why you did that?"

"Stop repeating me. I know what I said."

"You kissed me." Rhett's voice is softer now, and the back of his hand against the corner of his lips shifts so that it's his finger tips there instead, gentle on their resting place. 

"I'm sorry." 

Link's nearly on the verge of tears, embarrassed beyond words at his recklessness. How could he be so god damn stupid? Who the hell does he think he is? 

"You kissed me, Link." 

"I know that! Obviously I know. Stop sayin' it!" 

"How long have you wanted to do that?" 

"What? I didn't want to do it! I told you that I don't know why I did. I'm a fucking idiot."

"Yeah, you'd have to be an idiot to think that was a kiss worth givin'."

"What?" 

Link wants to take a step back. Actually, many steps back. Right out the door and outside. Far, far away from here. Away from this conversation and away from Rhett's smirk. That shitty fucking smirk that tells Link he's never gonna live this down. Not ever. 

"You have the nerve to kiss me, against my will, and you don't even make it good? I'm disappointed in you." 

"What?"

Link's a broken record, repeating the only word he knows. 

"Do it again. Make it better."

"What?"

"What, what? Do you need to be mad to do it? Kiss me, you piece of shit."

"Rhett-"

"Pussy."

"Rhett, stop. What the fuck, man?"

"You're such an asshole, Link. Not even man enough to finish what you started. I knew you were weak, but I didn't know you were THIS wea-"

He's cut off as Link steps forward again, and much like the first time, his fist in balled up in Rhett's shirt like a lifeline, knuckles going white from the force of it. But this time when he presses his lips to Rhett's, Rhett's ready for it, and he presses back. 

Link's not sure what's happening. Well, beyond kissing Rhett. He doesn't know why he is. It was a stupid knee jerk reaction. It happened so quickly and then it happened again. And it's still happening. And Rhett's opening his mouth and Link's taking up new space, licking his way inside like it's his to have. 

His fist melts into a flattened palm on Rhett's chest, and Rhett's hands settle on Link's narrow hips, warm and sweat slick, but, wow. It's not bad. 

Rhett's tongue brushes against Link's, and neither of them are sure who is the one that moans, but someone does and then the other does, too. 

It's dizzying, maddeningly familiar, even though it's brand new. Barely out of the packaging. It's hot and wet and sloppy and there's a bang of teeth clattering together, but damn if it isn't fucking good. 

Rhett pulls away first, out of breath and panting. He plants one more quick kiss against Link’s reddened lips and smiles before he backs away. 

"You're still a piece of shit, Link," he tells him over his shoulders as he settles down into his bunk. "C'mere and do it again."


	11. Gettin’ You Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuxedo waiters, black tie,  
> White table clothes and red wine,  
> We've been planning, this night,  
> Looking forward to it, for some time  
> Now honey I know you love getting dressed up,  
> And you know I love showing you off,  
> But watching your baby blue eyes, dancing in the candle light glow,  
> All I can think about, is getting you home,  
> Walking through the front door,   
> Seeing your black dress hit the floor,   
> Uh honey there sure ain't nothing, like you loving  
> Me all night long, and all I can think about is getting you home,  
> I don't need this menu, no I don't,  
> I already know just what I want,  
> Did I hear you right, did you tell me,  
> Go pay the waiter and lets leave,   
> Now honey I know by that look in your eyes,  
> And your hand drawing hearts on mine,   
> That our night out of the house, ain't gonna last too long,   
> When all you can think about, is getting me home,  
> Walking through the front door,   
> Seeing your black dress hit the floor,   
> Uh honey there sure ain't nothing like you loving me  
> All night long,  
> And all I can think about, all I can think about,   
> All I can think about, is getting you home.

Rhett smiles as he pulls out a black chair with a high back and sleek looking lines. Even though Link rolls his eyes at the gesture, he’s internally melting. He sits down and waits for Rhett to take his own seat across him before he carefully moves the shiny, reflective silverware from their resting place atop his deep maroon dining linen and smoothes it across his lap. He is who he is, and acts how he acts, so even though there’s a lot to take in around him, Link takes the time to make sure all of the wrinkles are released from the fabric before he looks back up and across the small setting. 

“You sure are lookin’ good tonight,” Rhett tells him with a grin when they lock eyes, and even after all this time, somehow hearing those words in that tone paints his cheeks in a warm feeling of shyness. 

“Aw, hush. You’re just sayin’ that cause you picked out the shirt,” Link smirks back as his fingers dabble with the buttons on the cool navy blue cotton. 

Rhett chuckles back just in time for the waiter to make his first appearance, and Link’s filled again with that warmth as Rhett orders an expensive bottle of red, sweet but not too sweet, just the way Link likes it. 

“S’my favorite,” he tells him once their order has been placed and they’re left alone once again. “You remembered.” 

“Course I did. You think after all this time I could forget? Not like I could order you strawberry or somethin’ equally despicable like that, huh?” 

Link let’s his laughter bubble up through his throat unabashedly as his head falls back heavy on his neck and his hand clutches desperately at his chest. He’s near tears when he calms himself back down, and he realizes that it wasn’t even that funny, but it doesn’t matter. Not when Rhett’s eyes are glinting in the soft yellow candle light between them and he’s got that tongue licked across his bottom lip. The mirth falls from Link’s face as he takes in the sight and he breathes in deep. 

“I happen to like strawberry wine,” he says instead of what he really wants to say. Something along the lines of ‘I lost my virginity drunk on it. I actually really love it.’ But maybe that sort of talk is a little too vulgar for the dinner table. He suspects Rhett knows what he’s getting at anyway, especially when his eyes crinkle at the edges and his cheeks come up to cover the bottom of his lashes. 

“I happen to like it too, bo,” he replies, a light teasing in his voice. “But there’s some things I can think of that I like a little more...” he leads off, and Link can’t help himself when he laces his fingers beneath his chin and leans forward- closer to the soft voice and closer to the aromatic woodsy scent that lingers even from the short distance between them. 

“Oh yeah?” Link asks, voice low and sultry. “What’s’at?” 

“The things we do when we drink it, for instance...” he starts and leans forward, too. He can’t be too loud, not when he’s about to whisper a hushed little dirty number right in the middle of a suit and jacket steak house. “Like when you roll around on the river’s shore and moan my...”

He’s cut off by the waiter’s return, though he doesn’t seem to mind. He only sits up straight in his chair and nods his thanks as cool wine is poured for him in a long stemmed glass. Link is a different animal entirely, though. He can’t particularly stop himself from scowling as Rhett places his dinner order; a medium rare t-bone, baked potato and a side salad with all of the trimmings. He fixes his lips just long enough to order nearly the same thing- though he’d prefer his steak a little less pink and his salad a little less tomato-y. 

Link watches as the man stalks away from their table before turning back to his date, and is completely taken aback by the way he’s being looked at in return. Dark eyes, made so by the warm natural light, stare at him with intention. Rhett’s bottom lip is tucked securely between both rows of teeth and Link can’t help but think how he wishes it were being tugged on with his own pearly whites. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at me like that for?” He asks, though he suspects he knows the answer anyway if Rhett’s feeing anything like he’s feeling. 

“Cause I love you,” Rhett tells him, almost sweetly. And for a moment the words are lost on Link, because, okay, yeah they’re sweet. But he wants something a little more... “and I’m thinkin’ of all the places I’m gonna bend you over when we get home. And then right after I’m gonna take your place and let you have me any way you want me.” 

Something a little more like that. 

“Gosh, baby,” Link stumbles, hot under the collar. He swallows thickly around the moan Rhett’s words almost force out of him. 

“Gosh baby, what?” Rhett asks, the picture of innocence. A wolf in sheeps clothing if Link’s ever seen one. 

Link clears his throat and looks around a little nervously. It’s quickly determined that he’s got enough space to say what he needs to, so he leans in once again and bats his lashes before he says, “Gosh baby, you keep talkin’ like that and you’re gonna have me finish in my pants like a horny teenager.” 

He waits for Rhett to laugh before he says something that he knows will wipe the smile off of Rhett’s face, and he delivers the line with a hard edge and a rumble in his throat that’ll certainly pay him back. 

“...and I don’t want that cause I’d much rather finish down your throat.” 

And he’s right, it does wipe the look from  
Rhett’s face and it smacks the laughter from his voice and he looks around a little nervously himself before he takes a sip and a gulp from his crystal glass. 

“Maybe we ought to cool it until we leave, huh, Link? Think we both made our points,” he smiles, and though Link’s damn near ready to jump across the table, he relents. 

“Okay, baby,” he says instead, and reaches his hand out instead of his entire body, cupping his long fingers over Rhett’s longer ones. “I guess I can wait a little longer for you.” 

They busy their wait for dinner with words that never seem to end. A funny thing that Rhett saw in the park when he was walking the pups. A near accident Link was almost in on the highway, complete with explicit dialogue and unending anger Link feels for the other driver. Even after thirty five years of talking every day, it never gets old. Not a word of it. 

Through the conversation Rhett vaguely concentrates on the little designs Link draws on the back of his hand with his pointer finger. A star. A smiley face. A heart. The word love. And all the while Link looks at him so softly- so fondly that Rhett could almost cry at the sight. 

“You know I love you, right?” Link asks after he swallows his first bite of steak. 

“You better. Put up with you enough to deserve it,” Rhett jokes, and Link nods his concession. 

“I love you, too, honey,” Rhett tells him seriously when Link doesn’t make a joke back. 

“‘Honey’,” Link giggles. “We sound like an old married couple.” 

“I can think of worse things. Especially since we are an old married couple.” 

Link beams at him and nods enthusiastically, little puffs of laughter accentuating the movement. 

“And damn proud of it,” he supplies, and it’s Rhett’s turn to laugh in agreement.

Finally, the bottle is empty and their bellies are full. Rhett dabs at the corners of his mouth with his napkin as Link watches him with his chin in his palm and his eyes only half open. 

“You want dessert?” Rhett asks, and Link’s grin lights up the table despite the dim flickering of light. 

“Not here. I want the check. And then I want you at home. I want that suit on the floor. And I want you out of breath and screamin’ my name. I think that’ll satisfy me just fine.” 

And if Rhett’s back hits the front door as soon as it’s shut and locked when they get home, and Link’s pressed his body in a hard line against his- well, he’ll be satisfied just fine, too.


End file.
